


Sometimes.

by Lukahhhhhhhh



Series: Exploring Sterek [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek, M/M, Sex, it's mostly implied, like it only caresses the idea with the softest touch, super light 'dark stiles'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:49:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lukahhhhhhhh/pseuds/Lukahhhhhhhh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he almost hated himself for the thought, but Stiles loved how he and Derek- or more specifically, mostly Derek- had sex like they were dying. </p><p>Sometimes he hated how much he loved to see Derek cry, whether it from how much he hurt, or how loved he felt; was frustrated with himself for enjoying it.</p><p>He really was going to hell, wasn't he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes.

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm? More emotional sex? Sorry, not actually sorry.  
> This is just barely touching on a dark Stiles idea, like not the canon one that's forming this season, but the hinting we got for a maybe grayer side of his personality when he told Lydia she was beautiful when she cried.  
> Like in theory that sounds lovely, but if you think about it, it COULD be kind of a dark thing, where even if he doesn't mean to, he sees the beauty in pain?  
> Idk I just wanted to play a little with that idea, don't mind me.
> 
> Not beta'd, yata yata, hope you enjoy.

Sometimes he almost hated himself for the thought, but Stiles loved how he and Derek- or more specifically, mostly Derek- had sex like they were dying. It sounded painful and morbid, but Derek watched him like he was lost and nearly frightened; his eyes wide with wonder, and hands shaky as if _he_ were the one completely at a loss as to why anyone would be touching him like he mattered. Every time Stiles touched, or kissed him, or told him how beautiful he was- Derek took these shuddery little breaths and let out these broken punched out sounds, as if he could actually be dying, could actually cease existence at any given moment simply because it was all just too much.

Stiles had found that Derek touched him like he was something to be revered, gentled, and near worshiped- as if constantly seeking affirmation that this could be real. Derek kissed like it was the only way he could speak in an argument long over spoken, but Stiles had never been very good at letting others have the last word. So he fought back, though it was achingly slow, and painfully sweet; his chest was heavy with it in a way he was sometimes too afraid, but often just too distracted to really look into.

Hands traveled over sloping planes of skin, and soft swells of muscle- long fingers grasping to hold what they could, as if at any moment it could be ripped away from them. Stiles watched how Derek's fingers twisted into the sheets, the muscles of his arms cording with a tension that ran up his shoulders and bled into his spine, holding his entire back taught and on edge. He leaned in to kiss the tension away, letting himself be led down his body as Derek's breath hitched in wonder.

It made his heart ache to know Derek was genuinely surprised with how often Stiles was kind to him in bed like this, treated him like he was as amazing as he was. And yet he still took pleasure in knowing he both brought hope and trust bit by bit into Derek's life again- and could be here to witness this small joyous pain.

Tears would gently lap at Derek's lashes, never quite falling, but he was so beautiful in his twist of hope and anguish, and as much as he sickened himself with his pleasure in it, Stiles loved every damn minute.

Sometimes Stiles was not kind in bed. Sometimes he took and took, pleasuring himself, and forcing Derek to the edge again and again, until he longed so badly for release he was quite ready to beg. He never got the chance, because Stiles was not so selfish, or rather far too selfish, to deny himself the pleasure of watching Derek come unraveled. And when Derek was tired and shaken and sensitive, Stiles would continue, watching as over-stimulation from feather light touches and blatant strokes, tight and fast, made every muscle in Derek's form bunch in a beautiful ripple of tension and flesh- ossifying beneath his fingertips- he whimpered and thrashed about with tantalizing and beautiful agony.

He shuddered like sickness was stripping him down, his body twisting and writhing as it had when he'd been infected with wolfsbane. And this time, just like last time, Stiles found it hard not to find Derek, even in the utmost pain, devastatingly beautiful, and unfortunately arousing.

Stiles pet his hand down his side, pressing kisses to his sweaty temple and extolling him for his strength, praising him with soft murmurs of encouragement, watching the love that lie in this man's eyes.

The trust.

It was intoxicating.

Sometimes he hated that he took such pleasure in Derek strung out and shuddery; body weak and worn out, tears and agony melding with love and pleasure in a way neither of them could distinguish.

Sometimes he hated how much he loved to see Derek cry, whether it from how much he hurt, or how loved he felt; was frustrated with himself for enjoying it.

Sometimes- but mostly, he just couldn't get enough of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so on the note that i don't have a beta, I was wondering if anyone would be interested?  
> I have a few plans for some classic literature/Sterek rewrites, and also faerie-tale/Sterek rewrites, and I would love to have someone [or several someones] to bounce ideas with, and read over my shit work to make it better uwu


End file.
